We Can Try
by burnithot
Summary: Amy Juergens is your average fifteen-year-old. She's just another shy girl that harbors seemingly unrequited feelings for the resident bad boy. She's nothing extraordinary. She just has one little secret... She's pregnant.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own The Secret Life of the American Teenager or the title of this story, which was inspired by the song of the same name by Between the Trees.

**Author's note:** All right, some background information. This story takes place in what I suppose would be the first season. It's pretty much the same situation. Ricky and Amy had a one-night stand at band camp. Amy is pregnant. She's only told Lauren and Madison, who she has rocky relationships with. A huge difference between my story and the show is that there is no Ben and Amy. Yes, Ben will have a crush on Amy in this fic, but she can't let go of her feelings for Ricky. Reading and/or reviewing is always greatly appreciated!

_I know things aren't quite like what they used to be  
>Different faces, different places, yeah<br>We can try, oh, yeah, we can try _

I amble slowly down the hall with my paper-bagged lunch in hand, eyes glued to the tiled floor, reluctant to reach the doors. Since I'm not exactly on speaking terms with Lauren and Madison at the moment, I have no idea where I'm going to sit once I get outside. With my luck, I probably won't be able to find an empty table and will end up sitting on the ground somewhere, looking like an outcast.

Great.

"Oh, shit," I mumble as I suddenly collide with a rock-solid body. My cheeks flush red with embarrassment, and I mutter a hurried apology. I reach down to pick up their dropped binders, but when I glance up as I hand them back, my heart skips a beat. A lump lodges in my throat, and I feel much like a deer caught in headlights.

"Thanks," says Ricky Underwood, chuckling. "I've never heard you curse before."

Unable to formulate a coherent thought, I continue to stare blankly at him. Memories of band camp flood my mind, and I rest an absentminded hand on my stomach.

"Are you heading to lunch?" he asks in a rather cheerful tone, as if oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions I'm experiencing.

I nod my head and whisper, "Yeah."

He grins down at me. "Cool. Want to sit with me? I'm kind of a loner."

My head vehemently screams in protest, but I find myself nodding again. "I'm kind of a loner, too… okay," I answer quietly.

"Awesome!" says Ricky, the grin never leaving his face.

Before I know what's happening, he happily slings an arm around my shoulders and leads me outside. I allow him, just because I enjoy the sense of comfort it brings me. I can't help but think, though, that he would never even talk to me if he knew about the situation I was in.

As we walk past the normal table I sit at, I feel the sharp stares of Lauren and Madison burning into my back. They probably think I'm acting like some kind of desperate slut. Maybe I am. I don't know. For once, I don't care, either. Let them think whatever they like. They don't control me. I am perfectly capable of making my own choices.

Ricky guides me over to a secluded table. He removes his arm from my shoulders to sit down, and I can't help but miss the contact. I hesitantly sit beside him, not really sure what to expect.

"I don't really understand how you're a loner," I say quietly, taking a small bite out of my apple.

He seems to be caught off guard that I took the initiative to speak first, but soon his trademark smirk reappears. "I don't like people," he replies with a shrug. "And what about you? I can't imagine sweet little Amy Juergens being a loner."

I blush immediately at his words. He made me sound like a little kid; is that how he really sees me? "Well, I've always just hung out with my two childhood friends, but I've been drifting away from them this year. They're very… judgmental." Why am I even doing this? Ricky isn't interested in anything I have to say. He couldn't care less about my friend issues. I guess I just forgot how easy it is to talk around him.

"Oh, really? What is there that anybody could possibly judge Amy Juergens on?" Ricky muses, eyebrows rising.

"You of all people should know that I'm not as innocent as I might appear," I retort, before I blush even harder. I can't believe I just made a reference to what we did at band camp. It's not as if it's a proud moment of mine; I much rather keep it on the down-low. Oh my God, I really, _really_ can't believe I just said that.

Ricky's eyebrows rise higher, but he merely says, "Touché."

We fall into a tense silence, and I try to focus all my attention on eating my apple.

"So… did you want to talk about what the whole judgment thing?" he offers awkwardly.

Oh, yeah, sure. It's just the fact that I'm pregnant with your baby. You know, no big deal.

"No thanks," I say stiffly, desperate to avoid the subject. "How's Adrian?"

Obviously taken aback, he starts choking on the chocolate milk he'd been drinking. I give him a couple clumsy pats on the back as he recovers. "Thanks," he says, clearing his throat. "I'm, uh, not seeing her anymore."

His answer surprises me. "At all?" I press curiously. It's kind of hard to believe since it's a well-known fact at Grant High that they always go back to each other. But I guess it makes sense. Why else would Ricky invite me to sit with him? I swear, if he has the audacity to try to hook up with me…

Ricky nods. "Yeah, I'm done with her. Too dramatic, too bitchy…"

In spite of myself, I let out a giggle. Yeah, that definitely describes Adrian. I quickly sober, though. I need to be upfront with him and make my intentions clear, like I should have done at band camp. "Listen, Ricky, if you only asked me to sit with you because you're looking for your next hookup, then you can—"

"No, no, no," intervenes Ricky, and to my shock, he blushes slightly. "I mean, I know I don't have the best track record, but I just wanted to talk to you. I-I, um, I kind of miss talking to you…" He trails off, and he looks uncharacteristically shy.

"Oh," I say stupidly. At this point, my face probably looks like a tomato. Everything he says seems to make me blush for some reason or another. I don't mention that I miss talking to him, too.

The tense silence returns. I finish my apple. "Did you want to talk about the Adrian thing?" I ask. To be honest, I don't want to listen to him talking about whatever sort of relationship they had. It still hurts to think about him being with her… being with anybody, really. His summer promises of us being something big incessantly linger in my mind; I can't shake the memories or my feelings for him, no matter how hard I try. And it's so damn hard having feelings for somebody that you know you can never be with.

Ricky shrugs again. "There isn't much to talk about. She was constantly jealous, so I told her that we were through. I know it sounds cruel, but you've got to understand. Adrian wasn't jealous because she had genuine feelings for me. She was jealous whenever she wasn't the center of attention. Trust me when I say it's not one of those tragic breakups. She'll find somebody else, and so will I. Eventually."

"Eventually?" This time I'm the one to quirk an eyebrow at him, unable to hide the skepticism in my voice. I know firsthand how easy it is for Ricky to abandon you, only to quickly move on to the next girl.

"I think I might be done with the whole one-night stand bullshit," he remarks. "Not that I'm looking to jump into a steady relationship… I'd probably fuck that up right away." He lets out a chuckle.

I want to believe him so bad, but as he's already stated, he doesn't have the best track record. "And how exactly do you plan on quitting cold turkey?" Hmm, how odd. It sounds as though we're talking about a smoking addiction or something. I suppose it is an addiction, though… just not a typical one.

His eyebrows crinkle together in a really cute way. "I'm not really sure. Hopefully my therapist can help me work on it," says Ricky.

"Your therapist?" I glance over at him, wondering what other surprises he can possibly have in store. At the same time, I'm touched that he trusts me enough to share such private information.

"Yeah... I kind of had a messed up childhood." Shifting uncomfortably, it's clear that he doesn't want to give too much away when he adds, "That's a story for another day."

I nod and smile kindly at him. There's a warm, tingly sensation bubbling within me that makes me feel almost lightheaded. This is the Ricky that I know. This is the Ricky that I miss.

Suddenly, Ricky locks his piercing brown eyes with mine. "How have you really been doing, Ames?" he asks with genuine interest in his voice. He places his hand on top of mine and gives me a soft, steady look that makes me want to melt.

I guess I also forgot how charming he is.

Blushing once more, I shyly return his gaze. The way he's looking at me has me itching to confess everything to him; I want nothing more than to unleash the crushing burden set upon my shoulders. But when I open my mouth to speak, without warning, a wave of nausea hits me.

Shit.

I scramble to my feet and rush to the nearest trashcan before emptying my stomach of its contents. In the midst of vomiting, I feel a hand brush against my neck as my hair is pulled away from my face, and I'm ready to die from the humiliation.

When I finish, the hand offers me some napkins, which I take gratefully and wipe my mouth. I look up and am not-so-surprised to find Ricky staring down at me with concern.

"Thanks," I say with a small, raspy cough.

"Are you all right?" he demands. "Do you need to go to the nurse?"

I shake my head wearily. "I'm fine, Ricky. Let's just sit back down." He hesitates for a moment, but he relents with a nod, and we head back to our table.

We soon resume conversation. However, as we talk, part of my mind is off wandering. I still can't get over how Ricky's rude, bad-boy demeanor has disappeared, replaced instead with my summer Ricky. I briefly entertain the idea that perhaps he might have actual feelings for me, and that he's being so nice to me because he likes me. Another blush sneaks its way across my cheeks in a hurry at the thought.

Loud arguing breaks out, effectively distracting us. Ricky and I look over in the direction of the fight, and the scene before us confuses me. A few feet away from our table, Lauren and Madison are standing up and yelling at each other. Then, a moment later, Madison comes storming right towards me and Ricky with a scowl on her face. Lauren runs after her, wearing a worried expression.

"Don't do this, Madison!" begs Lauren.

Paying no heed to our friend's pleas and protests, Madison doesn't stop until she's in front of our table. Her arms are folded tightly across her chest, and she bears a sickly sweet smile that doesn't quite match her cold, menacing eyes.

Ricky frowns at her and, knowing that something's up, rests a hand on the small of my back, as if to protect me from the red-haired girl's wrath. "Hi, Madison," he greets her cautiously.

"Hello, Ricky. Hello, Amy," she sneers.

I don't know why, but I find myself scooting closer to Ricky. "Do you want something, Madison?" I say, afraid of what her reply may be.

She flashes me a manic grin. "Oh, there's just something I'd like to tell Ricky," she answers cheerfully.

"Madison, don't," warns Lauren, tugging on her arm.

Realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and my heart plummets down to my stomach. Oh, God, no. Tears rapidly welling in my eyes, I vigorously shake my head in a desperate, silent appeal.

She isn't going to do this to me. She _can't_ do this to me! I mean… why would she?

Malice glittering in her eyes, Madison calmly delivers the gut-wrenching blow.

"Amy is pregnant, and it's _your_ baby."

* * *

><p><strong>Another author's note:<strong> Now, I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this fic. I definitely plan on continuing it, but I can't promise speedy updates. Oh, and if my writing seems a bit repetitive, I did that on purpose because I'm trying to write in the mindset of Amy.

Also, for those of you that may be curious, I still plan on continuing my story entitled _They Will Never Suffocate Us._ I'm just not too sure when that will be. Life is hectic, y'know?

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own The Secret Life of the American Teenager or the title of this story, which was inspired by the song of the same name by Between the Trees.

**Author's note:** So, I lied! As it turns out, I updated this story before _The Way I Loved __You_. I apologize in advance if you happen to catch any silly mistakes; I was just so excited and in a rush to post this! I hope that this doesn't seem short or too rushed. If so, remember everything happens for a reason! I hope you enjoy this update, and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated.

* * *

><p>Six<em> weeks pregnant<em>

Glowering fiercely at Madison, Ricky jumps to his feet and snarls, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I stand as well, and I feel sick. I can't even look at her. I'm so confused and everything hurts and oh my God, what the hell is happening?

Silent tears run down my cheeks as I begin to walk away from the three of them. I vaguely hear Ricky and Lauren calling for me to come back, but I shake my head to myself and quicken my pace. Why would I go back there? So I can be humiliated even further?

I push the doors open to enter the school, and before I know it, I'm sprinting through the empty hallways. Mere seconds after I enter the girls' restroom, I find myself throwing up once more into a toilet bowl. From morning sickness or nerves, I'm not quite sure.

Even when I flush, I still don't feel much better. I lean against the wall, bringing my knees up to my chest and hiding my face. Now I allow myself to cry freely, my body shuddering with sobs.

Oh, God, when did my life become so screwed up?

Wallowing in my misery, I don't notice the door opening or the approaching footsteps, which is why I start when somebody wraps their arms around me. I cling onto them like a lifeline.

"Why?" I weep. "Why would she do this to me?"

"She's changed, Amy," says Lauren sadly. "I don't know when or why, but she's changed. She's self-centered… and jealous of you."

I look up at my friend, stunned. "Jealous of me?" I repeat in disbelief. "Why would she be jealous of me?" In a whisper, I add, "I'm going to have a baby, for Christ's sake!"

Lauren sighs. "She's jealous of all the attention you're getting… especially from Ricky."

My tears dry up, and my cheeks flush with anger. "Are you serious?" I hiss. Madison likes Ricky? She's not allowed to like Ricky! She knows how much he's hurt me! Hell, she knows how much _I_ still like him!

"I'm sorry, Amy. I'm sorry about Madison. I'm sorry that I've been distant and unsupportive. I'm sorry that I've been just as bad as—"

"Oh, shut up," I say with a shaky laugh, pulling her into a tight hug.

Soon, the bell rings, signaling the end of our lunch period. I sniffle and wipe my face as Lauren helps me to my feet. "I'm really glad I don't have any classes with him," I mutter while walking out of the girls' restroom.

Lauren glances over at me, brows furrowed. "You know, Amy, Ricky really gave Madison hell for doing that to you," she says.

"Yeah, he probably doesn't want to believe that what she said is true," I scoff.

"Amy…" Lauren warily touches my arm. "I know it sounds crazy, but I think he might actually care for you."

"You're right, it does sound crazy. It _is _crazy," I snap, pulling away. "Listen, I'll catch you later, okay? Bye, Lauren." Before my friend can say anything more, I pick up my pace and push through the throng of students.

Unfortunately, I notice Ricky out of the corner of my eye. I quickly look down so that my hair falls in front of my face and try to get by without him seeing me. Much to my dismay, however, I soon hear his voice calling for me.

"Amy! Hey, Amy, hold up!"

I feel tears form in my eyes as I glance up, locking gazes with the boy that stole and inevitably broke my heart. Ricky is only a few feet away from me, a determined look on his face. What could he possibly want? Well, it doesn't matter, because I'm certainly not in the mood to hear any cruel words he surely has in store for me. I've already cried enough today, which is why my shoulder bumps roughly into his as I walk right by him.

My decision is made by the time I take my seat beside the tall, gangly boy that sits next to me every day. Now that Ricky knows, I have to spare both of us… even if that means never talking to again.

_Goodbye, Ricky,_ I think wretchedly, just as the final bell rings.

_Eight weeks pregnant_

"How was school today, Amy?" chimes my mother the moment I walk through the door.

"Fine," I answer in a weary monotone, brushing past her. I don't exactly feel like putting up with her cheery façade, not when I know her and my father's marriage is crumbling right before my eyes.

Besides, I've been doing my best to avoid her like the plague so that I don't end up revealing my secret. I can't even begin to think of how she would react.

It's been two weeks. Two weeks since my lunch with Ricky. Two weeks since Madison told him the truth. Two weeks since I decided to permanently cut ties from him.

Not that that's been exactly easy. Every corner I turn, Ricky is always there, trying to confront me. Evading him is harder than I thought it would be.

Exhaling loudly, I collapse onto my bed. I burrow my head into my pillow and let out a muffled scream. The past couple weeks have been long and hard and exhausting, and all I want to do is sleep.

_Knock-knock-knock._

I groan upon hearing the light tapping on my door. "Go away, Mom!"

"Open up, Amy!" says a voice that I know all too well.

Freezing, I wonder why in the world _he_ is here. I slowly stand and walk towards my door. "What do you want, Ricky?" I say coldly.

I can imagine him rolling his eyes as he says, "What I want are some answers."

"You're going to have to be a little more specific," I reply, though I'm pretty sure I already know what he's referring to.

"I want to know why you've been ignoring me since Madison—"

I panic at his words and hastily cut him off. "Don't say her name!" While it _is_ a bit painful to think of my former friend and her betrayal, I only interrupt him so he can't finish his sentence.

"Amy…" Ricky's tone is exasperated and impatient.

Sighing, I reluctantly open the door and look up into his deep brown eyes. I shift nervously on my feet as I mumble a quiet, "Yeah?"

Ricky wastes no time in making himself feel at home. He peels off his leather jacket, tosses it to the floor, and flops down onto my bed. "So," he says expectantly.

"Thanks for making my room into even more of a mess," I huff, folding my arms across my chest. I'll do anything to put off the subject he is so set on discussing.

"Oh, please. Your room is clean as a whistle," snorts Ricky.

I glance down at the carpet. "You know, I've never really understood that expression…"

"Oh, Amy," he says with a short chuckle, shaking his head at me. "Let's just cut to the chase, shall we?"

I gaze at him blankly. "I don't know what you're talking about," I say resolutely, which is a total lie.

His face turns serious. "We need to talk about what Madison said."

No. No no no. This is not happening right now. I'm not ready to talk about this, especially not with Ricky, of all people.

I open my mouth, but soon close it. No witty retorts roll off my tongue. For the first time since he's gotten here, words fail me. There's just no deterring Ricky Underwood; when he wants something, he gets it.

"So, about what Madison said… Is there something you'd like to tell me?" prompts Ricky.

"No. She was lying," I grit out, trying not to stutter.

Ricky stares at me, unwavering, doubt etched in his features. "No, Amy. I think it's you who is lying—to me, to your parents, even to yourself."

At this, I lash out. "You don't know me!" I fume. "We spent one night together, and that's it! So I'd really appreciate it if you stopped acting like you know everything about everyone, because you don't."

Undaunted, Ricky merely raises his eyebrows. "Touchy, touchy," he remarks, sounding amused. "I have this little thing called intuition. I don't know if you've ever heard of it, but it works wonder, Amy Juergens." To my infuriation, he chuckles again.

I stare at him incredulously for a moment. Here he is, this arrogant boy with his insufferable crooked smile steadily meeting my gaze and poking fun at my screwed up situation. Doesn't he know that there's no easy solution? Doesn't he know I can't escape? Doesn't he know what he's done to me?

"How dare you? You broke my heart, and you're making it out to be like it's some sort of joke!" I seethe.

Caught off guard by my outburst, he merely blinks at me.

"Oh, so you're speechless for once in your life? Big shocker," I hiss. "Guess no girl has ever told you the truth: that what you do actually hurts us! We are human, and we have feelings! We _feel_ things, Ricky!"

I shake my head in disgust. "There's nothing to talk about, all right? I'll do my thing, whatever that is, and you keep doing your thing. I think you should just leave. Just leave, Ricky." My shoulders drop in weary resignation as I wait for him to walk out of my life forever, and I find my hand straying to my abdomen.

Ricky stands, but when he folds his arm across his chest, he makes it clear that he isn't going anywhere. "Believe it or not, Amy, people _can_ change," he says coolly.

My jaw clenches, and I raise my eyebrows. "Oh, really? Because just now it seemed as if you've reverted back to the pretentious jerk you were before."

"That's because you drive me crazy!" exclaims Ricky in frustration, taking a step towards me.

"You want the truth? Fine!" I spit. "I _am_ pregnant, all right? There, I said it! Does that make anything better? No, it doesn't, Ricky. It doesn't change the fact that you're a womanizer. It doesn't change the fact that you hurt me. It doesn't change the fact that you don't give a damn about me."

Ricky takes another step in my direction. "Is that what you think, Amy?" he says, barely audible. "You think I don't care? Well, newsflash, I _do_ care. I wouldn't have asked you to sit with me at lunch if I didn't care about you. I wouldn't have been trying to talk to you these past couple of weeks if I didn't care about you."

I feel my body stiffen, and I am unsure of how to respond. "What are you trying to say?" I say, not meeting his gaze.

He clears his throat, uncharacteristically apprehensive. "I'm saying that I care about you. I've cared about you since band camp. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I have a fucked up past to say the least, so I've always strayed away from serious relationships. When I realized that I had actual feelings, it scared the shit out of me, and I wasn't ready, so I ran and tried to distract myself with Adrian... As you can tell, that didn't exactly work out."

Speechless, I clasp my hand over my mouth. "Ricky," I finally whisper, torn, as tears threaten to spill over and onto my cheeks.

Before I can say anything more, he closes the distance between us.

And just like that, Ricky Underwood is kissing me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own The Secret Life of the American Teenager or the title of this story, which was inspired by the song of the same name by Between the Trees.

**Author's note: **I apologize profusely for the two month long wait! I wish I could promise speedier updates, but that's hard to do with my frequent writer's block. The best I can do is reassure all of you that I have not forgotten about this story or any of my other ones. Also, be forewarned that this chapter isn't too eventful. I was going to include more, but I ultimately decided to save that for the next chapter. At least that means you guys know the next chapter is already in progress! Oh, and guess what? Next chapter includes a couple more characters from the show! I suppose I should stop rambling and let you get to do it. Reading and reviewing is, as always, lovely and greatly appreciated. It's my motivation to keep me going on! So, without further ado, I present you with Chapter 3!

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><p><em><span>Eight weeks pregnant<span>_

I gasp against his lips, and Ricky seizes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Any remaining feelings of resentment towards him evaporate as I hesitantly kiss him back. His hands slide down my sides to grip my waist, and my fingers get tangled up in his hair. My eyes flutter shut, allowing him to pull me closer and allowing myself to become lost in him.

The kiss is slow and gentle and warm and comforting, and it sends off a frenzy of sparks that's even more intense than what I experienced at band camp.

It's the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless. It's the kind of kiss that leaves you wanting more.

It's the kind of kiss that I've always dreamed of.

After what seems like a lifetime, and yet all too soon, I break away. "Ricky, I don't think we should be doing this," I breathe, though my hands are still locked around his neck.

Brows furrowing, Ricky searches my eyes, which are mere centimeters from his, with an expression of confusion and hurt. "What? Why not? I thought you'd want this…"

I take a breath as I try to find the right words to say. "I… I do. Believe me, I do. But you said yourself that you're not looking to rush into a relationship right now or else you would screw it up. I would really like us to have a shot at this… and that's why I think we should take this slow." I wait anxiously for his response, praying that he'll understand.

A look of contemplation plays out on his face. But just as he opens his mouth to respond, a sharp rapping sounds on my door.

"Amy? Are you in there?"

Wide-eyed, I hastily scramble away from Ricky until there's a good amount of distance between us. "Yeah, come on in, Mom!" I call.

My mother enters and glances at us, clearly puzzled as to why we're standing several feet apart. "I was just wondering if your friend would like to stay for dinner," she says.

Unsure of how to answer, I bite my lip and sneak a look over to Ricky, who also seems bewildered. I wring my hands together before timidly saying, "Ricky… if you're not busy and don't have to be home, I'd really like it if you stayed."

Surprise lights up in his eyes as he stares at me. "Uh, yeah, sure, that sounds… nice. I'll just have to let my, er, parents know," mutters Ricky.

My mother, oblivious to the awkward atmosphere, beams at us. "Lovely! Ashley is already downstairs waiting, so hurry up, you two!" That being said, she whisks out of the room.

"Is Ashley the one with the dark hair?" inquires Ricky nonchalantly.

"Um, yeah… she's my younger sister," I say, positive that I must be blushing.

A short chuckle escapes Ricky's lips. "She's the one who let me in. Doesn't seem very pleasant," he observes.

I can't help but to smile in return. "Yeah, that's Ashley for you."

After sending a quick text to who I figured were his parents, Ricky looks back up at me. "So, about what you were saying before your mom interrupted…" He reaches up to rub his neck.

"I stand by what I said." For once, I'm actually confident about my decision. "I think it would be best if we take… whatever _this_ is slow. You hurt me, and I need time to trust you again. I'm not saying that we have to avoid each other for awhile, but I need to see that you've actually changed."

Several moments pass before Ricky slowly nods in acceptance. "All right, fair enough." He comes closer and tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear. His hand lingers on my cheek, and I all but melt into his soft caress. "You were never like any of the other girls. I just want you to know that. You're special, Amy," he murmurs.

This all feels so surreal, like a fairytale. Not in a million years would I have imagined Ricky to have genuine feelings for me. But he does, unless he's some sort of really good, sadistic liar.

I place my hand over his and stand up on my tiptoes to kiss him chastely. "We'll talk more later," I assure him, knowing that we still had a lot to discuss regarding my… situation. But for now, it will have to wait. "Let's go downstairs before my mom gets suspicious."

Nodding again, he intertwines our fingers and starts to lead me out of the room. I follow after him, a silly little grin spreading across my face as I think to myself that there's nothing better than holding hands with Ricky Underwood, especially because Ricky Underwood _definitely_ isn't the typical hand-holding type.

I can just picture all the envious stares I would get if we were like this in school.

Reluctantly, I release his hand as we approach the dining room. My smile fades as well when I notice the painfully obvious absence of my father at the table, which only means that he must be 'working late' again.

Much to my relief, Ricky doesn't pry into the matter. Instead, he drops down into the chair where my father usually sits. I swallow the lump that has lodged itself in my throat and take the seat next to him. My mother is on my other side, and my thirteen-year-old sister, Ashley, is across from me, scowling down at her plate.

"So, Ricky—it's Ricky, right?—what grade are you in?" my mother asks.

"Yeah, it's Ricky," he says with a smirk. "I'm a sophomore."

My mother nods, a curious look on her face. She opens her mouth, but I already know what her next question is, which is why I interject. "We met at band camp, over the summer." I can barely get the words off my tongue, and a blush taints my skin at the mere mention of band camp. One specific, unforgettable memory immediately comes to mind.

As if a light bulb has just gone off in her mind, my mother's eyes light up. "Oh! Is this that boy you were always talking about? He _is_ cute!" she exclaims.

Ashley snickers. Ricky is smirking again as he raises his eyebrows at me.

"_Mom!_" I hiss. In that moment, I'm sure I'll die of embarrassment.

"Oops, sorry, Amy," my mother says with a giggle, not really sounding sorry at all.

Ricky nudges me with my shoulder. "I'm flattered," he deadpans.

I roll my eyes and whack him. "Shut up, you idiot."

His hands lift in surrender. "Ouch, okay, I'll stop," he chuckles. "By the way, Mrs. Juergens, this chicken is absolutely divine."

My mother giggles once more. "Oh, so he's charming as well! And please, call me Anne."

As I devour my food, I resist the urge to sigh and kick her under the table. How is it that Ricky Underwood can make my freaking mother act like a schoolgirl? Oh, God, am I this annoying around him? I sure as hell hope not…

"Looks like he isn't the only one enjoying your superb cooking skills, Mom," remarks Ashley snidely, gesturing over to me. "The geek's practically finished already."

All eyes are suddenly on me. Horrified, I duck my head to stare at my plate, which is nearly empty. "I had a small lunch," I mutter defensively.

I feel Ricky's hand rest on my leg in a comforting gesture. I suppress a smile and take his hand in mine, grateful for his silent support. And, thankfully, he gets the conversation flowing once more by asking my mother about her day—it's a good thing that woman could talk for hours.

Once dinner is declared over, I all but leap to my feet. "Let's go, Ricky," I say. "You should probably be getting home now. I'll walk you to the door."

Ricky tilts his head at me, and then turns to my mother. "Would you like any help cleaning up, Mrs. Juergens?" he offers sweetly.

Pleased, my mother beams. "No, that's okay, but thank you! It was nice meeting you, Ricky. Oh, and like I said, call me Anne!"

He flashes her an easy smile. "Well, if you insist. It was nice meeting you, too, Anne." He extends his hand, and my mother happily shakes it before heading off to the kitchen.

"Ugh, I'm getting out of here before you two start making out," declares Ashley, slipping away as well.

I find myself rolling my eyes again as we take our time walking to the door. "Sorry about that. I know it was painful," I say.

Ricky is still smiling, though. "Your sister may be rough around the edges, but your mom was really great! Besides, I need to get her on my good side as soon as possible. I mean, who knows what'll happen in the near future…?" At this, his brows furrow, and he grimaces.

We stop at the door. I'm blushing again from his indirect reference to my situation—well, I suppose it's technically _our_ situation. "I don't want to think or talk about that tonight," I say quietly.

"Okay, I'm sorry," sighs Ricky. "We really do need to talk about it soon, Amy… You're already a couple months along, right?" He waits for my terse nod before continuing. "We can't keep ignoring it. We have to start making decisions, you know."

I feel myself shrinking away from his words. Does he know how terrified I am right now? I just bite my lip and simply nod again.

When he touches my shoulder, I look up to see his mask of uncertainty. I realize then that Ricky may present a cool and confident exterior, but in reality he's just as scared as I am. He's only one year older than me, after all.

"Good night, Ricky," I whisper, meaningfully holding his gaze.

"Good night, Amy." He hesitates, as if he's not sure what his next step should be.

I don't want this night to end on a bad note, so I step forward and lock my arms around his waist. His own arms hold me close, and for the first time in a long time, I feel calm.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own The Secret Life of the American Teenager or the title of this story, which was inspired by the song of the same name by Between the Trees.

**Author's note:** I apologize for the long wait once again (although be assured that my Degrassi readers have been suffering much longer)! I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I hope you all enjoy it! As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. I have been receiving a lot of story alerts on this story, but I'd love to hear your detailed feedback and see what you think!

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><p><em>Eight weeks pregnant<em>

I find myself waking up the next morning groggy and reluctant, for my mother had kept me up later than usual to ask an endless amount of questions regarding Ricky and my relationship with him. Unsure myself, I had told her that we are friends and that yes, there might be something more, but we're taking things slow. My mother had squealed her approval, although I can't help but to wonder how her opinion of him will change once she finds out about the situation we got ourselves into.

Grimacing at the thought, I drag myself out of bed and stumble over to my closet. Once I've stripped out of my pajamas, I frown down at my body. I know it's probably just me being paranoid, but I swear that a bump has already begun to form. Paranoia or not, I put on a flowing shirt that won't cling to my stomach. My frown only deepens when I pull on a pair of skinny jeans, buttoning them with some difficulty. "Oh, that's just great," I mutter bitterly.

By the time I arrive to school, my mood is still sour. After all, it doesn't exactly help that I couldn't keep down my breakfast this morning; it had taken a great deal of assuring my mother that I was fine for her to be convinced and allow me to leave the house. Plus I pretended not to notice Ashley's suspicious stare burning into me.

Each day my secret becomes harder and harder to keep.

"Hi."

I jump, caught off guard by the unexpected voice. I turn towards the speaker, and suddenly I am face to face with a tall, gangly boy that looks vaguely familiar. "Oh… hello," I say politely.

Appearing shy, he clears his throat and says, "I'm Ben."

I nod, remembering who he is at once, and offer him a warm smile. "Yeah, you're in my history class! I'm Amy."

"I know," says Ben, returning the smile. The tension seems to leave him upon my recognizing him. "I- uh, I was just wondering if maybe you'd be interested in hanging out some time. My friends, Henry and Alice, and I are, uh, kind of trying to make new friends."

My head tilts to the side, surprised by his request. He seems nice, if not a bit awkward and lonely, which I can definitely relate to. "Um, yeah… okay. When were you thinking of hanging out?" Feeling shy myself, I clutch my bag closer to my body.

A grin lights up his face. "Well, we were going to go bowling after school… so maybe you'd like to join us?" suggests Ben.

"That sounds fun. I'll, uh, text my mom and let you know in History," I say with another smile.

"Great!" he chimes. "I'll see you then, Amy."

I wave goodbye to him, staring at his back as I watch him walk away. I'm left standing alone by my locker, still a little bit baffled. Nobody ever approaches me with the offer of friendship, let alone a _boy_. With everything that's happened in the past few weeks, though, it's a comforting feeling to not feel like such an outcast.

In a much lighter mood now, I head into the girls' restroom. For some reason, I always have to pee; I suspect it has something to do with my situation.

Just as I enter, I hear a strange noise. I soon realize somebody is crying. Concern fills me, and when I turn the corner, I notice a petite blonde girl curled up against the wall, her thin shoulders shaking with sobs. "Um, excuse me?" I say hesitantly.

The girl's head snaps us to look at me, wide-eyed. "Oh, this is so embarrassing," she whimpers as she struggles to her feet. "I am _so_ sorry. I didn't think anybody would—"

"Hey, no need to apologize," I interrupt. "I was in the same exact position just a couple of weeks ago." I flash her a gentle smile.

"Really?" she sniffles.

I nod in confirmation and step closer. "Want to talk?"

Sighing dejectedly, she seems to deflate. "I- I'm not sure… It's really embarrassing."

"You might feel better getting it off your chest," I tell her.

The blonde girl hesitates a moment before finally relenting. "Well, okay. Do you know who, um, Adrian Lee is?" she asks.

I scowl instinctively and nod again.

"I saw her and my boyfriend kissing," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.

I feel a rush of sympathy for her. "Oh, I'm sorry. When did it happen?"

She pushes her hair back, sighing once more. "Yesterday, after school was over. My boyfriend always drives me home, and I went to meet him, and that's when I saw _her_ all… pressed up against him. Then, the next thing I know, she reached up and kissed him right on the mouth!" A combination of disgust and heartbreak is displayed all over her face.

Frowning, I ask, "Have you confronted either one of them?"

The blonde girl shakes her head vehemently, seeming horrified by the suggestion. "No, I ran off right after I saw them. Jack tried to talk to me this morning, but I walked away. I don't know how to handle any of this," she says sadly, and her shoulders drop in resignation.

"I think you should find Jack and ask him about the kiss," I urge. "Give him a chance to explain. I mean, were you there long enough to see if he kissed Adrian back?"

A thoughtful look crosses her face. "You know, I did only watch them for a second," she muses. She brightens a bit, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Thank you so much! You were really helpful…" Unsure of who I am, she trails off.

I stick my hand out and introduce myself. "Amy Juergens."

There appears to be a flicker of recognition in her expression, though she shakes my hand nonetheless. "I'm Grace Bowman," she says.

My eyes grow wide. "You're Wife Number One's—uh, I mean, you're Kathleen Bowman's daughter, right?" I inwardly groan. Way to go, stupid. You probably just pissed her off.

Rather than looking affronted, however, she smirks. "Yeah, that's me. Our parents used to be married."

I can't help but let out a small giggle. "Small word, huh?" I say, before returning to our previous topic of discussion. "You know what? If I see Adrian today, I'll say something to her."

"Really? You would do that for me?" smiles Grace, clearly pleased.

"Well, family's got to look out for each other," I joke. The bell warning us to get to class rings just then, and I give her a friendly hug. "I'll talk to you later, Grace." I turn to exit the bathroom, but she grabs my wrist. I glance at her curiously.

She holds out a hand, grinning. "Phone?"

We quickly exchange phones to type in our numbers. "I hope everything with Jack goes well," I tell her with sincerity. Grace thanks me, and I hurry to reach my first class in time.

Today I am actually able to focus to the teacher's ramblings. In spite of my crappy morning, I find myself happier than I have been in weeks. I've made two new friends in less than an hour, and Ricky and I are on good terms. This is more than I would have ever dared to hope for.

When class ends, I tense up, for I am fully aware that I pass by Adrian's locker on my way to my next class. That may sound strange or creepy, but in my defense, Ricky used to stand there talking with her every day. How could I _not_ have memorized where her locker is?

I instantly recognize her dark, distinctive curls and ridiculously glossy lips. However, she is not alone. She stands in front of a taller boy, her arms folded across her chest and her smirking mouth moving with what I can tell are seductive words. Still, her flirting with some guy won't stop me from confronting her.

Bracing myself, I slowly make my way towards her. Her brows furrow, and an angry expression takes over her face.

"You can't be interested in that… child!" scoffs Adrian.

Before the boy can respond, I clear my throat, feeling out of my element. I mean, I'm awkward, soft-spoken Amy Juergens, a mere freshman who has trouble standing up for myself. What am I even going to say to her?

Adrian's piercing eyes narrow at me. "What do _you_ want?" she spits.

I'm at a loss for words. My panic washes away, however, when the boy she was conversing with turns around. I feel my heart drop and my stomach churn and my blood run cold.

Why in the world had Ricky been talking with Adrian?


End file.
